I’M gutted that the summer is coming to an end – already. I don’t know where it went! All I hear is residents gasping for air, claiming to be overjoyed that the heat is over and the tourists have gone home. Are they mad?
For starters, do we not live here for the weather? Did I miss the lesson on moving to Spain in order to moan incessantly about the high temperatures? And is it not those tourists that keep a high percentage of us expats in work and in business? “Oh, you moved here to climb up the career ladder and excel in big business?” I don’t think so!
In any case, many of the tourists are family members of those of us living here. We really enjoyed the company of my big sister and her family last month. Relatives give you the best excuse for trying out new restaurants and tourist attractions. And thankfully another of my sisters arrives in a couple of weeks. Just the ticket for organising a bit of dolphin spotting and perhaps indulging in a some well deserved sushi scoffing.
Every year I promise myself that I will make the most of the balmy August afternoons when I’m not tied to the day job; I’ll hang out on the beach, take frequent dips in the pool, sip on sangria and achieve something wonderful. I will enter September as a svelte, bronzed goddess, ready to face the onslaught of the busy autumn season.
Once again, it hasn’t happened. I’m embarrassed to confess that I haven’t so much as dipped my little toe in a swimming pool this year, and have only ventured down on to the beach once the sunbathers have packed up and the dog and I are free to roam at will.
But thankfully I’ve got another few weeks until we go on our holidays to try and take the fluorescent glare off my oh so white legs. And now that the TOWIE lot have headed back to welcome their mates Amy and Kerry out of the Big Brother house, and Puerto Banús regular Imogen has rushed back for the start of the footie season, I might even be able to find a sunbed around the pool. €100 a day? Hmmm, perhaps not.
Back to the day job it is then!